An Unpraised Picture

I saw a picture once by Angelo. “Unfinished,” said the critic; “done in youth;” And that was all, no thought of praise, forsooth! He was informed, and doubtless it was so. And yet, I let an hour of dreaming go The way of all time, touched to tears and ruth, Passion and joy, the prick of conscience’ tooth, Before that careworn Christ’s divine, soft glow. The painter’s yearning with an unsure hand Had moved me more than might his master days; He seemed to speak like one whose Meccaland Is first beheld, though faint and far the ways; Who may not then his shaken voice command, Yet trembles forth a word of prayer and praise.

Collection: 
English
Richard Burton

More from Poet

  • The Polar Quest

    Unconquerably, men venture on the quest And seek an ocean amplitude unsailed, Cold, virgin, awful. Scorning ease and rest, And heedless of the heroes who have failed, They face the ice floes with a dauntless zest. The polar quest! Life’s offer to the strong! To pass beyond the pale, to do...

  • In Sleep

    Not drowsihood and dreams and mere idless, Nor yet the blessedness of strength regained, Alone are in what men call sleep. The past, My unsuspected soul, my parents’ voice, The generations of my forbears, yea, The very will of God himself are there And potent-working: so that many a doubt Is...

  • The Polar Quest

    Unconquerably, men venture on the quest And seek an ocean amplitude unsailed, Cold, virgin, awful. Scorning ease and rest, And heedless of the heroes who have failed, They face the ice floes with a dauntless zest. The polar quest! Life’s offer to the strong! To pass beyond the pale, to do...

  • An Unpraised Picture

    I saw a picture once by Angelo. “Unfinished,” said the critic; “done in youth;” And that was all, no thought of praise, forsooth! He was informed, and doubtless it was so. And yet, I let an hour of dreaming go The way of all time, touched to tears and ruth, Passion and joy, the prick of...

  • Love Is Strong

    A viewless thing is the wind, But its strength is mightier far Than a phalanxed host in battle line, Than the limbs of a Samson are. And a viewless thing is Love, And a name that vanisheth; But her strength is the wind’s wild strength above, For she conquers shame and Death.